


Careless Whisper

by eternityforflesh



Series: Dancing in the Dark [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Crack, Dirty Dancing, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M, Megatron Origin AU, PWP, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A miner on leave in Kaon crosses paths with the rebellious Crown Prince of Vos at a nightclub. Dancing, drama, and heartbreak ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careless Whisper

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: explicit sticky interfacing. Squint 'n' scroll if that's not your thing. Also, you may need tissues. Like, a whole bunch.
> 
> Utterly, totally inspired on WHAM's song "Careless Whisper," but I had the Seether cover playing when I got slapped in the face by this idea.
> 
> For your reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0_dyc4IrLg

     The two huge mechs walked through the streets of Kaon, their frames upright, yet relaxed, their steps sure and confident. They laughed and spoke loudly in the way that mechs of their size tended to do. The battered state of their plating further discouraged much attention as they passed into the entertainment sector of one of Cybertron's most notorious city-states.

     Megatron and Impactor were on leave from the mining outpost where they had been stationed for many, many years. Leave was typically a week and their shuttle had arrived planet-side that afternoon. After a quick recharge and fueling at their lodging, an unbelievably seedy place with what seemed like foil for walls, the two miners hit the streets in search of adventure.

     Their pedes eventually brought them to a small club at the opposite edge of the sector. The badly flickering neon sign read, “WHAM Club,” and the bouncer seemed oddly excited that Megatron and Impactor had stopped to consider his club. But the street was mostly deserted as most mechs seeking adventure, Kaonian and tourists alike, stayed in the center of the sector where the brightest lights and biggest crowds were to be found.

     From their previous leaves, the two miners knew that the real fun was found at the edges of the sector where the mechs had less to lose and better stories to tell.

     Looking at each other with equally impressive shrugs of their massive shoulders, they stepped passed the bouncer and entered the WHAM Club.

     The lighting was suitably dim, the music suitably loud, and the main dancefloor suitably crowded with mechs of all frames and sizes. Grabbing their first round of drinks, they settled themselves at a table on a tier close to the dancefloor so as to watch the dancers.

     Their optics roved the crowd moving on the floor and then the tiers of tables leading up into more shadowy areas of the club. They passed some time this way, sipping their engex, pointing out attractive mechs to each other until Megatron's optics fell on a lone Seeker sitting at a table roughly opposite theirs across the dancefloor.

     The silver miner watching the flier for some minutes, dampening his audials to focus on the mech whose entire posture seemed to indicate annoyance at something. Possibly all the mechs who approached him, presumably to dance or share a drink together. He waved them all away with irritated flicks of his wings and short kicks of the thruster he crossed over his other leg.

     “Megatron. Are you even listening to me, mech?” Impactor asked, his voice sounding far away. Startled slightly, Megatron returned his audials to their usual level and looked at his friend.

     “What? Not really.”

     The orange mech laughed. “Who's caught your optic tonight, Slagmaker?”

     A look of exasperation crossed Megatron's face at the nickname. “That Seeker over there. Red and white.”

     Impactor's vocalizer issued a low whistle. “You set your sights high, don't you?” They both watched as the Seeker shoved a mech away from him with one arm, causing the mech to stumble back before bouncing against a neighboring table. The shove was followed by a look cold enough to freeze energon in fuel lines. The offending mech backed away and the Seeker resumed his irritated posture.

     “A little spitfire, I see.” Impactor sounded deeply amused.

     “I'm just watching for now.” Megatron said casually, raising his glass. “Enjoying this fine beverage in this fine establishment.”

     After several more minutes of watching the red jet, Impactor's attention began to wander and his glass emptied. Megatron barely noticed as he left to get another round for them. His optics seemed locked on the jet, now beginning to slump at his seat.

     As the song changed, only really noticeable by a slight change in tempo, the Seeker straightened and then swaggered to the dancefloor with the casual grace typical of most flight-capable Cybertronians.

     He began swaying gently to the music, wings fluttering lazily. After a couple of slow spins to give himself and his wings space on the dancefloor, the Seeker's movements sped up to match the beat and he seemingly lost himself in the music.

     The Seeker twirled and spun, red hips swaying, blue arms sweeping through the air, white wings complementing his smooth movements. His little flourishes and kicks, while as flamboyant as his coloring, merely made his dancing that much more exquisite.

     Several nearby mechs paused in their dancing to watch the display, but the Seeker paid them no heed. It seemed that in his mind, he was alone, and the entire place was his for the night.

     From his seat a few meters above the dancefloor, Megatron watched the Seeker dance and he felt that it was just for him, his own private performance, and the heat in his heavy systems began to climb.

     A loud _clink_ pulled him from his reverie when his friend returned from the bar and set their fresh glasses down.

     “Still watching your little lover?”

     A scowl was the reply.

     “Look at him go. He's probably a hoot in the berth.” He laughed at Megatron's deepening scowl. “We just got planet-side, mech. You can't go falling in love on the first night.”

     “I'm going to need to transfer to a different barracks when we get back,” Megatron muttered.

     “If you don't clang that jet on this leave, and it somehow keeps me from getting some action, you're gonna have to transfer to a different outpost, my mech,” said the orange miner with a grin. He clapped his friend on the back and pushed a new glass into the hand resting on the tabletop. “Drink up, you might have to fight him for it.”

     The song had ended and with a few artful shoves at his would-be suitors, the jet headed across the floor to the bar. He strutted right past Megatron's table, and Megatron felt his fans whirr into motion as he was stung by a pang of desire that felt like a blow to his plating.

     Up close, the Seeker seemed even more beautiful. His frame was typical of the Vosian Seekers, an exotic combination of cruel curves, smooth planes, and delicate angles along with the sturdiness of design required for hypersonic flight. His dark face was as fine as his frame, and the annoyed scowl twisting it only pushed him into the stratosphere of unattainable. And he was so very far from Vos, and so very out of place in this dingy club and grubby city-state.

     Megatron didn't have time to ponder that before the jet was passing him again on his way back to his table across the club.

     Halfway through the crowd, the music changed again, and draining his glass in one long draw, the Seeker flung it away in a high arc to begin dancing again.

     Song after song, the miner watched the dancer, entranced. Impactor kept feeding him drinks, but eventually grew bored, and with an amused “Catch you back at the lodging,” went in search of more active entertainment.

     Megatron barely grunted in acknowledgment. Finally, the Seeker was passing his table for the fourth time on his way to the bar, and the silver mech pushed himself up to refresh his own drink.

     The jet was poised on his thruster-tips, leaning over the bar toward the bartender, wings hiked high to avoid being jostled. His red aft was prominently displayed as he waited for his drink, and Megatron clenched his hands as he approached to avoid any impulsive movements.

     It wouldn't do to spend the rest of his leave in a brig because he ended up brawling with the dancer.

     He positioned himself next to the Seeker and placed his order. The miner might not have been able to touch it, but his optics roved shamelessly, even a bit hungrily, over the jet's frame.

     “Look any harder and you're going to scorch my polish,” came a brittle, harsh voice. The jet cocked his head up at Megatron as he accepted his drink. “And that will make me very angry.”

     The silver mech straightened up, drawing himself to his full height and smirked, keeping his optics locked on the Seeker's.

     “Hmm. I like them big and ugly.” The mech smirked, assuming a casual pose that was anything but. He was also a tall mech – Seekers tended to be on the large side – but he was still several meters shorter than Megatron. “What's your name, big, bold, and brutish?”

     Megatron snorted. “You've got some attitude on you, Vosian. My name is Megatron.”

     “And what is it you do, Megatron?” The Seeker drawled, obviously studying the state of the larger mech's plating.

     “I'm a miner off-world.”

     “So you are a brute. And on leave, I'm sure. Buy me a drink. Where is your table?”

     “Name first, drink second.”

     “Starscream.” The jet turned back to the bar and raised his glass. “Another one. On his tab.”

     “And you called me bold,” Megatron tutted.

     “Business is business,” the jet said, shrugging before he accepted his second drink.

     “Business?”

     “You wanted to know my name. I wanted another drink. Business.” Starscream threw back his first drink and slid the glass back onto the bar. “Now, where's your table?”

 

*****

 

     A hour later, both mechs were still at Megatron's table, slagged a good way to the Pit, a fair number of empty glasses clustered together on the table. Starscream was laughing sloppily at something Megatron had said and, as he leaned forward to laugh, his hand slid over the silver mech's knee and squeezed.

     The miner immediately took the hint and leaned toward the Seeker, bringing them nearly nose to nose. Megatron's optics dropped from Starscream's optics to his lips, and when the jet smiled in sultry invitation, he moved to close the distance.

     Suddenly, Starscream stiffened and leaned back, leaving Megatron hovering, lips slightly parted in expectation.

     “Dance with me!” Megatron cycled his optics, jaw dropping into a gape. The jet hopped down from his seat and pulled on the miner's wrist.

     “You want to dance? Now?” He had no idea what had just happened.

     “Come on. This is one of my favorites!” Confused and more than a little frustrated, Megatron pushed off of the table and allowed himself to be dragged onto the dancefloor, where he towered over most of the crowd.

     “Show me some moves, Megatron of Tarn,” Starscream teased, whirling around him with a flourish. “Surely, you've danced once in your life.”

     “Of course, I have,” the miner growled. Finding the beat after a few seconds, he began to move. His movements were smooth and controlled; he didn't consider it seemly to follow Starscream's example and bounce and twirl with a heavy build such as his. It wasn't his style anyway.

     “Frag, you're hot,” Starscream purred in his audial, having pressed up against Megatron's back, moving in time with the larger mech. “But let me show you something.”

     Sliding his hand down Megatron's arm, the jet caught his hand and stepped into a flashy spin that ended with him curling into the miner's frame, wings to chest, and the large silver arm around his waist.

     “Hold me close so you can follow along.” The Seeker tossed a wicked smile over his shoulder, and Megatron pulled him back until red aft met black hips. Starscream began a sensuous grind against the miner's rapidly over-heating frame in counterpoint to the rhythm of the song.

     And Megatron followed him; every dip, every sway, every roll of his hips. It was easy considering how sensitive his entire frame had become, especially every point where their plating met. And the Seeker was good at leading their dance, if it could even be called that by this point. Public dry-fragging was a more apt description.

     When the miner finally slid his hands to the jet's hips, Starscream responded by gripping Megatron's thighs and guiding both their frames down into a grind that should have had them both arrested for public indecency. As they both rose together, the Seeker swung his arms over his head in slow arcs and tipped his head back onto Megatron's shoulder.

     “Slag,” he whispered, dark lips ghosting across scarred silver lips. One of his hands lowered to slide behind Megatron's head and pulled him into a kiss as slow and deep and intense as their dancing had been.

     And their frames continued to move together, every contact point feeling like an acid rain burn: raw and tingling with heightened sensitivity, but not painfully so. Actually, Megatron was nearly out of his mind, it felt so good.

     “Mmm. Another dance, Megatron of Tarn?” Starscream's voice lilted in a way that set the big frame against his back rumbling with desperate need.

     “Not like this,” was the answer growled against the Seeker's mouth before another kiss claimed it.

     “I know what you mean.” Biting back a groan, the jet stepped away from Megatron and led him off the dancefloor that was finally starting get uncomfortably full. They moved up through the tiers of tables toward a dark corner on the uppermost tier.

     There was a empty booth tucked into the corner, but instead of sitting at the booth, Starscream perched on the table and spread his thighs in invitation. Megatron's engines revved, but he managed to tear his gaze off the Seeker's frame long enough to throw a glance over his shoulder at the club behind him.

     “Here?”

     “Place like this, nobody cares. Now, show me what other moves you have.” Leaning back further, the jet slid his panel back with feral grin.

     Megatron didn't need any further persuasion. He launched himself at the Seeker before him, spike springing from it's housing, and crushed their lips together in a rough, hungry kiss.

     Reaching behind Starscream to cup his aft, the silver mech pulled the red hips flush to his, his straining spike pinned between their frames.

     “I'm going to frag you through this table...and the floor.”

     “Oh, Primus, yes,” the jet groaned. “I'm ready. Frag me now.”

     And Megatron pulled back and pushed into Starscream's wet heat. His huge frame shuddered at the feeling of being enveloped by the smooth, slick walls of the Seeker's valve. He took a few seconds to focus himself, and then the silver mech began moving.

     His thrusts pulled little moans and pants from the jet beneath him and the miner picked up his pace. Starscream sank back onto his elbows and hiked up his knees, wings clattering with his pleasure, allowing Megatron deeper access to his valve.

     “Oh slag, you're so big,” the Seeker panted. “So good.” His optics slid down from Megatron's face to where his spike pumping into his own valve and then back up. “More. I need more.”

     The silver miner growled, pulling Starscream's legs around his hips, and leaned over the Seeker, one hand pinning his hips, the other above the Seeker's frantically beating wings, balancing him on the table. And then he began thrusting in earnest.

     The table beneath them began creaking ominously, and Starscream laughed. “Don't stop! Don't you dare stop!” To further his point, the jet began augmenting Megatron's movements with his legs, pulling the miner more tightly into him.

     “Starscream...,” Megatron warned, his voice laced with static. He was on the brink of overload; the engex and dancing had worn down his stamina. And Starscream was the hottest frag he'd had in ages.

     “Hold it! I-I just...I just need...,” the jet broke off, his own vocalizer straining. He pushed his hips up to sharpen the angle of Megatron's thrusts and the effect was immediate. His optics flickered and bursts of static spit out between gasps.

     And then his frame seized and curled in on itself, his wings battering Megatron's arm. His optics and mouth went wide, which made him look almost comically surprised, and then his frame shuddered, his valve mirroring the violent spasms, squeezing Megatron's spike almost painfully.

     The sight and sound and feel of Starscream's overload around him ended the miner's battle against his own frame. He let go of the charge building around his panel and felt it snap through his frame, crackling and burning up his circuits and down his fuel lines.

     He had the presence of processor to bite down on his hand to keep from shouting. No doubt that him roaring in overload would attract unwanted attention, if they hadn't already.

     As the last flicker of blissful fire sublimated through his frame, Megatron allowed himself to slide out of Starscream and slump into the booth seat. He let his head fall back and left his optics staring at the ceiling without focusing for a minute, letting his cooling system to it's job.

     He heard movements and lifted his head to see Starscream straightening himself on wobbly legs. Chuckling, the big mech pulled the jet into his lap, and the Seeker sagged against his chest.

     The Seeker reset his vocalizer twice, but it was still shaky and staticky when he said: “I want to dance with you again.”

     Megatron laughed and dragged a finger down Starscream's wing lightly, drawing shivers from the frame in his lap.

     “Maybe I'll see you tomorrow then. I have another few days of leave left.”

     A contented sigh slipped out of the Seeker's mouth. “Tomorrow, then.”

 

*****

 

     Megatron met Starscream at WHAM Club the next five nights, much to Impactor's annoyance. Perhaps not so much annoyance as Megatron was clanging the Seeker, and that left the orange mech plenty of time to pursue his own entertainment such as it was. And the two miners still did spend much of their leave time together, playing tourists in Kaon during the daylight hours.

     So his friend wasn't very surprised or annoyed when Megatron announced that he was going to spend his last night of leave at the club with Starscream.

     “Maybe you'll finally break that table tonight,” Impactor gave the silver mech an elbow to the mid-section.

     Megatron shot him a look.

     “Whatever, mech. Just be ready for the shuttle tomorrow morning. I will leave without you.” Tossing a rude gesture over his shoulder, the orange miner left their room at the lodging and made his way into the Kaonian night.

     An hour remained until he was due at WHAM Club, so Megatron had time to idly ponder that week's events. He had thought about polishing up a bit for his last night in Starscream's company, but the Seeker liked him rough and scratched up.

     So, instead, he laid in his rented berth and pulled up his memory data from the previous night's dancing. The jet had snatched a glass of abandoned engex off a table as they made their way to their corner after their public foreplay on the dancefloor. And then he'd dribbled it down his canopy glass and his thighs and his panel, which Megatron had gladly licked off.

     Then he'd had Megatron coat his lips and mouth with it before pushing the miner down on the table and straddling his face.

     Megatron cut the trip through his memory data short. There was no way he'd last as long as he'd like tonight if he walked into WHAM Club already charged halfway to an overload. Lying in his berth didn't help either so he decided to take a long, ambling route to see his Seeker.

     The miner ended up arriving a little later than he'd promised, but quickly made his way to Starscream's usual table. He was almost to the bottom tier when he noticed two Seekers sitting with his jet. A blue Seeker and a purple and black Seeker, very close in size and frame design to Starscream.

     Maybe they were friends, or trine-mates. Megatron didn't mind meeting them as long as he still got his dances with Starscream.

     But the smile on his face fell as he approached and heard the blue Seeker's deep voice float through the club noise:

     “Honestly, Prince Starscream. This slumming in Kaon has to stop. Allowing these grounders to violate your frame in such intimate ways is beyond comprehension.”

     “This is just a little bit of fun, Thundercracker,” his prince snapped. “I will be returning with you to Vos in the morning. There is nothing here worth staying for. Speaking of...,” Starscream craned his slender neck to scan the crowd, and when his optics fell on Megatron's still form standing on the next tier up, his dark face broke into a beautiful smile.

     And Megatron felt his spark scream inside him.

     When the Seeker motioned for him to join him at his table, Megatron came. He was introduced to the jet's trine-mates, Thundercracker was the blue and Skywarp the purple and black. They were both polite, but their optics were as cold as he felt.

     The miner sat in the seat Starscream pulled up for him, and he drank the engex Starscream ordered for him, but he sat and drank listlessly, his processor replaying those words that cut right through him.

     His Seeker was a prince? The prince of Vos? All this time, he'd had no idea, and he supposed he never would have known if he hadn't heard that last bit of conversation. And he supposed that it was foolish of him to hope that he might see Starscream again after this week in Kaon.

     No, he was simply Megatron from Tarn, a miner, another rough brute with whom Starscream could relieve his royal boredom. There was no comfort in those truths, just pain. He had finished his last glass of engex and was just sitting, staring numbly at the small clear container.

     “Megatron? Are you not well?” The harsh, brittle voice was stained with concern, and when Megatron looked up, the dark face reflected the voice. The silver mech felt like he wanted to purge, but managed to quell that feeling and said, simply, flatly: “I'm just tired.”

     A sly look crossed the jet's face. “I hope you're not too tired.”

     Both his trine-mates looked away, and he sneered at them. Then he reached across the table and took Megatron's hand in his, thumb stroking gently across back of the huge black hand.

     “Come, Megatron of Tarn. I believe you owe me one last dance.” He tugged on the hand, and the big mech felt himself stand and heard himself say, as if from a distance: “As you wish....”

     Starscream looked at him quizzically, but then shrugged and led him to the dancefloor. Megatron tried to put his spark into his movements, but it felt shriveled and dark inside it's chamber.

     When Starscream curled back against his chest, wrapping Megatron's arms around his frame, the miner couldn't help but vent a sigh against the side of the jet's head.

     “Perk up, mech, I want to enjoy myself tonight,” the Seeker chided, his voice teasing.

     “Of course, Prince Starscream,” Megatron whispered.

     The warm frame in his silver arms stiffened abruptly. Then shrugged his arms off as he stepped away from Megatron to face him.

     “You heard Thundercracker?” He looked stricken.

     “I did. I'm not a fool, Starscream.” The dark face crumpled under the weight of some painful emotion.

     And in that instant, the music faded for both of them, and the crowd disappeared. It was just the two of them, the prince and the miner, facing each other in a silence as dense as the rock which Megatron dug through for energon crystals.

     Starscream looked into his miner's optics and the sadness he saw there made his vision seem as if it had gone gray.

     “Please. Megatron...,” he said softly, and reached for a black hand. Megatron pulled away, broad frame tensing in a way that was painful for Starscream to see. “Please stay.” His hand remained half-raised, in invitation and as a plea.

     “No, Starscream.” He shook his silver head sadly. “Maybe its better this way.” He turned and left the dancefloor, massive shoulders hunched as if he was carrying a terrible weight.

     “I'm never going to dance again,” the Seeker murmured, his optics dimming as Megatron's frame disappeared into the shadows of the club. “The way I danced with you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I normally prefer fluffy/smutty MegaScream where they win the war, don't beat each other up (much), and have a happy ending, but I love the spark-wrenching angsty MegaScream too much to not write at least a little piece of it. I almost needed a bunch of tissues writing the ending because the song that inspired me came on and I was like, "No! No! NO! Don't waste that chance, Screamer!" :/
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my story. Like and comment, if you please!


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